“The Manger speaks to us!” cried the Head Clark, falling to his knees.
“A magic lantern!” said Limbeck excitedly, peering into the eyeball. “Only it isn’t really magic, not like the magic of the Welves. It’s mechanical magic! I found one on another part of the Kicksey-Winsey and I took it apart. Those pictures that seem to move are frames revolving around a light so fast that it fools the eyes-”
“Silence, heretic!” thundered the High Froman. “Sentence has been passed. The Mangers say that you shall be given into their hands.”
“I don’t think they’re saying any such thing, Yonor,” protested Limbeck. “In fact, I’m not certain what they’re saying. I wonder why-”
“Why? Why! You will have a lot of time to ask yourself why as you are falling into the heart of the storm!” shouted Darral.
Limbeck was watching the magic lantern that was repeating the same thing over and over and did not clearly hear what the High Froman had said. “Heart of the storm, Yonor?” The thick lenses magnified his eyes and gave him a buglike appearance that the Froman found particularly disgusting.
“Yes, so the Mangers have sentenced you.” The High Froman pulled the hand and the eyeball blinked and went out.
“What? In that picture? No, they didn’t, Yonor,” Limbeck argued. “I’m not certain what it is, but if you’d only give me a chance to study-”
“Tomorrow morning,” interrupted the High Froman, “you will be made to walk the Steps of Terrel Fen. May the Mangers have mercy on your soul!” Limping, one hand rubbing his numb backside and the other his pounding head, Darral Longshoreman turned on his heel and stalked out of the Factree.
CHAPTER 12
XOMBE, LOW REALM
“VISITOR” SAID THE TURNKEY THROUGH THE IRON BARS.
“What?” Limbeck sat up on his cot.
“Visitor. Your sister. Come along.”
Keys jangled. The closer clicked and the door swung open. Limbeck, considerably startled and extremely confused, rose from the cot and followed the turnkey to the visitors’ vat. As far as he knew, Limbeck didn’t have a sister. Admittedly, he’d been gone from home a number of years, and he didn’t know all that much about rearing children, but he had the vague impression that it took a considerable length of time for a child to be born, then be up walking about, visiting brothers in jail.
Limbeck was just performing the necessary calculations when he entered the visitors’ vat. A young woman flung herself at him with such force that she nearly knocked him down.
“My dear brother!” she cried, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him with more attachment than is generally displayed between siblings.
“You’ve got till the whistle-toot blows the next scrift change,” said the turnkey in bored tones as he slammed shut and locked the closer behind him.
“Jarre?” said Limbeck, blinking at her. He’d left his spectacles in the cell.
“Well, of course!” she said, hugging him fiercely. “Who else did you think it would be?”
“I… I wasn’t sure’ Limbeck stammered. He was extremely pleased to see Jarre, but he couldn’t help experiencing a slight twinge of disappointment at the loss of a sister. It seemed that family might be a comfort at a time like this. “How did you get here?”
“Odwin Screwloosener has a brother-in-law who serves on one of the flashraft runs. He got me on. Didn’t it make you furious,” she said, releasing her grip on Limbeck, “to see the enslavement of our people exhibited before your eyes?”
“Yes, it did,” answered Limbeck. He was not surprised to hear that Jarre had experienced the same sensations and thought the same thoughts he had during the flashraft journey across Drevlin. The two often did this.
She turned away from him, slowjy unwinding the heavy scarf from around her head. Limbeck wasn’t certain-Jarre’s face was pretty much a blur to him without his spectacles-but he had the feeling that her expression was troubled. It might be, of course, the fact that he was sentenced to be executed, but Limbeck doubted it. Jarre tended to take things like that in stride. This was something different, something deeper.
“How is the Union getting along?” Limbeck asked.